


Paved With Good Intentions

by cheloniidae



Series: rise in perfect light [2]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Gen, House Courier, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2019-01-20 07:40:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12428046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheloniidae/pseuds/cheloniidae
Summary: The Courier had been so certain that Veronica would find her place with the Followers. Now six people are dead, and he’s scared that something inside Veronica died, too.(Or: the choices you run from, until you can't.)





	Paved With Good Intentions

It’s quiet inside the outpost, once the paladins are dead.

Veronica makes certain of it, taking off their helmets like only someone from the Brotherhood would know how to do and pressing two fingers against their necks. The paladins got through the Followers’ guards without a scratch, but a courier, an eyebot, and a wayward scribe were enough to take them down. Liam would laugh at the absurdity of it if he weren’t trying not to scream.

She stares at their faces, and stares, and Liam has to gently pull her away from the members of her family that they just killed. That tried to kill them.

His own laser rifle is still warm.

He’d been so certain that it would work. Veronica would find her place with the Followers, and help people with her knowledge, and help the Brotherhood itself by proving that not all of its members were remorseless fanatics. It was supposed to be good for everyone. And now six people are dead, and he’s afraid that something inside Veronica died, too.

“I should have seen this coming,” she says as they sweep Doctor Schiller’s ashes into a bottle-turned-urn. The paladins left their other victims strewn around the outpost like the toys of a petulant, angry child. Liam moved the corpses to the beds, and they’d been as limp as dolls, and he hadn’t screamed. “I should have known they wouldn’t just let me leave.”

He can just barely hear her. It feels like hearing someone shout through fog— not the fog of home, the fog that blankets Xijing every night like the bay is a mother tucking in her children, but something cold and heavy and deafening. He thinks he recognized one of the doctors from when he worked with the Followers. He tries to remember the doctor’s name. He tries not to.

ED-E nudges him, gently, and he realizes that Veronica was talking to him. “I told you to come here,” he says. He doesn’t know for how long he was silent.

“You didn’t know them like I did. Like I _thought_ I did. I knew the Brotherhood hurt people, but... I didn’t think they were capable of this. How could I be that blind?”

“It isn’t your fault.” He tips the contents of the dustpan into the nearly-full bottle. Wonders, somewhere far in the back of his mind, what parts of Schiller it used to be. “Everyone wants to see the best in their family.”

“They aren’t my family, anymore. I got the message.”

Liam searches for an apology, but no apology is enough. The observable universe is ninety-three billion light years long, and in all its vastness, he can’t imagine anything exists that _could_ be enough.

He’d wanted to find a way to help everyone. That was all he ever wanted to do.

When the floor is clean of Schiller, Liam stoppers the bottle and sets it on a bedside table, near the bodies. He won’t let Schiller’s ashes blow away in the next sandstorm, or fall through the slits between the wooden boards of the floor. It’s all he can do for Schiller. It’s the least he can do.

He’ll have to tell Julie what it is, he thinks as they leave the outpost. He’ll have to tell Julie everything. (He doesn’t think about telling Arcade, because then he really will scream.) He’ll have to tell Julie. He’ll have to tell--

“If you want me to leave, I understand,” Veronica says. Her voice still sounds thick, wet, like she’s on the edge of crying. She was so happy at the start of this, when he agreed to take her back to the bunker. Thanking him and thanking him and grinning wide. Her smile is so much like his big sister’s that it hurts, sometimes.

Liam half-expects he’ll never see it again. She should be blaming him for this, not herself. “Do you want to leave?”

“I want to finish what I started with you, but-- I can’t promise that this won’t happen again. They might keep tracking me. If you’re afraid--”

“I’m not afraid.”

“Okay,” Veronica says, as though trying to convince herself that it will be. “Okay.”

  
Victor is waiting outside the Lucky 38 to remind Liam that House is waiting. Liam walks past without answering. He knows what House wants him to do, and he knows that he can’t do it. Orders aren’t a good enough reason to kill people. There’s enough pain in the world already; he’s never thought adding to it could make things better.

“You look like shit, boss,” Raul says as Liam steps out of the elevator. One look at Veronica’s face tells him that something is wrong, even by the standards of their ragtag group. “What happened?”

“We’re having a meeting.” Veronica almost hides the quaver in her voice. She turns to Liam. “They should know what they’re getting caught up in. It’s their choice.”

She’s right. Liam knows she’s right. But a meeting means telling Arcade, and-- and he can handle that. Either that, or someone else has to. It should be him. He pauses to pop a mentat, first. He needs to be able to focus for this, and what Benny’s bullets tore apart, mentats mostly hold together. Arcade always gives him a disapproving look, but Liam needs them to feel normal again. To feel like himself.

It’s late, and Liam finds Arcade where he expects: in the master bedroom, sprawled across the bed, book in hand. His moving in had been a gradual process; Liam knew Arcade was there to stay when he started to leave books on the bedside table.

“How did your mysterious trip with Veronica go?” Arcade asks, setting his book down. “See any wonders of the post-apocalyptic world? Or punch them?”

“I’m sorry,” Liam says. He has to say that first, before Arcade hears the rest.

“I’m not actually offended, though it would be nice to get out of the tomb. I seem to remember something called a ‘sky.’”

Liam doesn’t crack a smile. “Something happened with the Brotherhood. We’re having a meeting.”

The others are already assembled in the living room. Cass is looking distinctly annoyed at Raul, most likely for dragging her away from the cocktail lounge; Lily is knitting something in bright, headache-inducing yellow; Veronica is holding on to the arm of her chair like she might drift away if she doesn’t; Rex is at her feet, whining and pressing his head against her legs; and Raul has his arms crossed, waiting for an explanation.

Liam gives them one. When he describes the outpost – finding the plasma-burned bodies, fighting the paladins– it feels like he’s reading a book about something that happened to someone else, very far away. He starts shaking at some point. He can’t stop.

Arcade blanches. He never wears weapons inside the presidential suite, but his hand keeps coming back to where his plasma pistol would be holstered.

“Jesus fuck,” says Cass, breaking the silence. “That’s Brotherhood-level murder, all right, but the Followers split up with NCR years ago. Why get their power armor in a twist over Veronica joining?”

“They accused me of sharing Brotherhood secrets.” Veronica looks nauseated, but she keeps going. “I don’t know if they were acting alone, or if they were ordered to follow me. If they had orders-- there might be more coming. Anyone they see me with could be a target.”

“It’s been months since we got this band together,” Raul says. “If they wanted to kill us, why didn’t they try already?”

“That was before they decided I was a traitor.”

“Leo doesn’t like those bad men,” Lily rumbles. “Traitor is a rude word, pumpkin. Someone needs to teach them better manners.”

“They’re dead, Nainai,” Liam says soothingly, and regrets it when Veronica’s face crumples. Even though the Brotherhood turned against her, she must still care about them. Emotions don’t have off switches.

“If anyone gives you trouble, dearie,” and Lily pats Veronica’s head, “you just tell grandma.”

Veronica manages a stiff nod. “Thanks, Lily,” she says. It sounds forced.

“So you called this get-together to see who’s gonna run scared from some dicks with lasers? Screw that,” Cass says. “I don’t leave my people behind. You’re one of us, Ronnie.”

ED-E trills in enthusiastic agreement, and Raul says, “I’m not going anywhere, mija.” Even Arcade snaps out of his silence long enough to agree. That silence is worrying; Liam doesn’t think he’s ever seen Arcade this quiet.

“It’s settled,” Liam says. “You’re with us as long as you’ll have us.”

It’s small and brittle, but Veronica smiles.

  
The first time Liam left Shiguo, he showed his little brother how to find Sirius in the sky and promised that he would look at it every night. _When you miss me_ , he said, and hugged Libin tightly, _look at that star_. That was seven years ago. Libin is no longer a brokenhearted twelve-year-old, but Liam always makes a point of looking at it, just in case.

Its light has been traveling for over eight years, a journey to put any courier to shame. It’s from a time when Liam was still called Liwei more often than not, and a time before the Xijing Earthquake, and a time before today.

He envies the stars, sometimes.

  
Liam crawls into bed with Arcade, distantly aware of hunger gnawing at his stomach. He and Veronica only stopped for water on the walk back from the outpost. Neither of them had any appetite. He doesn’t think he could have kept down any food, even if he did want to eat.

He keeps to his own side of the bed, waiting for a sign that he can move closer. Those people were Arcade’s colleagues, maybe even friends. A wave of nausea rolls over him as he remembers one of the doctor’s faces. The name is just out of reach.

“Are you okay?” Liam asks. He couldn’t bring himself to ask Veronica the same question, when the only possible answer was no.

“I’m alive; you’re alive; Veronica is alive. That’s a start. I’d say we should keep a low profile if we don’t want to draw the Brotherhood’s attention, but I guess it’s too late for that. _Hannibal ad portas_.”

“If you don’t want to travel with us--”

“Someone has to patch Veronica up the next time she decides that punching Deathclaws is an effective method of clearing out a quarry full of them. It wouldn’t stop the Brotherhood from coming after me, anyway.”

“Why wouldn’t it stop them?”

“No reason, no reason,” Arcade says, as quickly as a gate slamming shut. “I’m just being paranoid.” It isn’t the first time he’s told an obvious lie. Liam never presses the issue, but it bothers him that Arcade thinks he has to hide things. It bothers him even more that Arcade won’t let him help.

“They would have to get through me first,” Liam says.

“You haven’t seen what they’re capable of.”

“I saw _enough_.” Liam winces, at the memory as much as his tone. “I’m so sorry. I never wanted this to happen.”

“Did you order a merry band of sociopaths to slaughter the outpost?”

“No, but--”

“Then stop blaming yourself.”

Liam can’t, but he doesn’t want to argue, either. He nods noncommittally.

“Does Julie know?” Arcade asks.

“I have to tell her tomorrow. Vee isn’t going,” Liam adds. “We agreed it isn’t safe for the Fort.” He sees it laid out like a picture: plasma burns scorching the adobe walls, bodies piled in the tents, Julie turned to ash--

Liam makes it to the bathroom just in time for the dry heaves start. He feels Arcade’s hands on his back, rubbing circles, and tries to center himself on that. He’s here. The smell of ash and plasma is only in his head.

After his stomach stops convulsing, Liam heads back to bed. Arcade pulls him close. Liam listens to him gently snore and thinks about the doctor whose name he can’t remember. He sleeps for a few minutes at a time before he jolts awake, thinking he had a nightmare, and reality comes crashing down on him again.

  
Liam goes alone to the Fort an hour after dawn. Julie is usually up during the day; it makes sense for an administrator, though sometimes he’s passed through late at night and seen her checking on patients in the tents. Freeside is an avalanche of misery made of a thousand smaller sufferings: a gash in the face of a mugging victim, jet in the veins of an addict. The Followers are the only ones trying to stem it. Always too much work to do, and too few hands to do it. He was one of them; he knows how it is.

Julie is in her tower office, typing notes into her terminal, sipping at a drink that almost certainly isn’t real coffee. She must have recently woken: her hair is flat, not in its usual mohawk. The style is a tribute to the Followers’ founder. It makes her stand out in the Mojave, but Liam remembers visiting the university in the Boneyard, and it seemed nearly everyone honored Nicole in some way.

“Julie?” he says.

“Oh-- Liam. It’s great to see you.”

She’s wrong about that.

Liam takes out the keys for the outpost’s supply cabinets. He had enough presence of mind to lock everything up before he and Veronica left, but he doesn’t remember doing it, only that it was done. Like reading an item from a list. “I have some bad news,” he says, and tells her about the outpost. About the bodies that need to be returned to families, and Schiller’s ashes, and his role in all of it. It feels more real, telling it a second time. He wishes it didn’t.

“Oh my God.” For a while, that’s all Julie says. Her office is an eye of quiet in the storm of the Old Mormon Fort. Right now, Liam would welcome any noise but the hum of laser rifles and the clank of power armor. If Julie yelled at him, demanded answers— he could handle that. But he can’t take this silence.

“The Brotherhood is dangerous,” Julie says. “They’ve targeted researchers back in California; it was only a matter of time before we did something to provoke the local chapter. It was always a risk.”

“The outpost didn’t do anything to provoke them. I did.”

“You couldn’t have known, and neither could they. We’ve had other members join after leaving the Brotherhood. Nothing like this mess ever happened.”

Liam has a sinking feeling that Veronica’s argument with McNamara made the difference. If he’d just encouraged her to give up the Brotherhood for lost, to accept that they wouldn’t change from the start--

“We’ll be shorthanded while I figure out replacements.” Julie touches the bridge of her nose, eyes closed, and breathes out. “Can you ask Arcade if he could come back for a week? We’ll need him here.”

“I will.” Liam hesitates, but he has to know. “Who was stationed at the outpost?”

Julie looks down, and there’s regret in her voice as she lists them off: “Schiller, Alvarez, Morris, and Duval.” More regret, with a tinge of guilt: “I didn’t know the guards’ names. Schiller was responsible for hiring them.”

Duval. That was the one Liam recognized.

  
The elevator to the penthouse seems to stretch for ages. Liam times his breaths with the _ding_ of each floor passing: one, two, out, one, two, in. He wonders if House can see him inside the elevator, steeling his resolve.

It was only a matter of time, Julie said. If he’d acted sooner, none of this would have happened.

The penthouse hasn’t changed in the month since Liam last saw it. The untouched furniture, the thin film of dust on the massive monitor. Even Jane is still where he remembers her being last, and she tells him to _go right ahead, sugar, Mr. House is ever so eager to talk to you_.

House appears on the monitor, left eyebrow raised in perpetual challenge. “It’s been quite some time, hasn’t it?” His voice comes from speakers on either side of the screen. It always makes Liam feel surrounded. Sometimes that’s a safe feeling (he’d be dead if House hadn’t made Victor intervene in Goodsprings), and sometimes it’s intimidating (he’s seen what the Securitrons are capable of), but now it only makes his stomach roil. “I trust you have a reason for your absence.”

Liam had wanted to find a peaceful solution. A way to show House that the Brotherhood was redeemable, that they contained something worth sparing. And now— “The Brotherhood killed an outpost of Followers,” he says. “Four doctors and two guards.”

“I wasn’t aware of this troubling development. When did this occur?”

Liam starts to say _today_ , but corrects himself. “Yesterday.”

“I did warn you of the danger posed by the Brotherhood,” House says, not unkindly. Arcade is convinced he’s as cruel as any wasteland dictator, but Liam knows he isn’t. He’ll have to persuade Arcade of that, soon. He isn’t certain he can. “I trust you now understand why your assignment is so necessary. Have you found the courage to carry it out?”

The answer sits inside Liam like something cold and sharp, and it cuts on its way out. He thinks he tastes blood in the back of his throat.

He tells the others that he’s going out alone.

He takes his stealth suit.

He won’t ask Veronica to forgive him.


End file.
